


Science Lay His Heavy Head

by Databuffer



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe Fuckery, Found Family, Grief/Mourning, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mad Scientists of a Feather Flock Together, Major Character Injury, Major Spoilers for the entirety of IDW, Moving On, Post-Canon Fix-It, Prosthesis, Rating May Change, Shockwave is bad at emotions and being a good person, Time Travel Fix-It, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-09-22 10:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17058272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Databuffer/pseuds/Databuffer
Summary: After being reunited with his emotions, Shockwave sacrifices himself to save Cybertron - and the rest of the universe. Its those same emotions that inspire him to deny the slow death waiting for him, and pluck himself out of the jaws of death.What awaits him on the other side is not what he expected, but rather what he needed. A path out of the self destructive loop he had found himself in.A post Lost Light Shockwave au that was spawned entirely because a particularly heated twitter rant.Watch as I make you all ship the crack ship to end crack ships, and bullshit my way through science.





	1. The Mouse and the Needle

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a long fic so here we go ( ;u;)P 
> 
> Chapter Themes:  
> Acid Rain - Lorn  
> When I Was Done Dying - Dan Deacon

When Shockwave came back online, after the explosion of his chronal drive, he awoke to darkness. There was no sound, no sensation, other than the feeling of being jerked around in the void as if he was caught in a riptide. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t dead, or how long he had been here, but… it gave time to think. 

Shockwave had thought his revelation had come too late. He was dead. Dying. Consumed by an explosion that rended space and time to fling his battered frame about through a black hole. Without empathy for the chasms of broken metal littering his body. Where heat, and electricity ate at his plating, down to the protoform. He would have screamed, if his vox were intact. If the vacuum he was in could allow sound. Everything was profoundly painful, but he was used to pain. Emotions on the other hand were… troublesome. 

They were new to him. Orion had only just freed him from the shackles the Senate, and the Institute had set him in so very long ago… And with that freedom, he was able to halt his previous plans to destroy the universe in exchange for stagnant peace. Survival of Cybertron but… what a fool he was… The survival of cybertron didn’t matter if it didn’t age. If it didn’t change. Shockwave had stripped the goal of its meaning - the senate had stripped him of the sentimentality required. He took a noble task, and perverted it to a logical scope. It lost meaning. The mission became cruel.

He had wasted his life. 

The epiphany hit hard. It felt like his spark was shrinking. He couldn’t tell if it was a side effect of the emotion running rampant through his processor - sadness - or genuine death. 

Shockwave had never explained himself to Orion. His intentions. He’d never apologized for what he did when he wasn’t himself. He wanted to say ‘sorry’… but he never would. The feeling that followed the thought was enough to make him tremble. The sadness felt muted in comparison to this. This was agony. Pure, unadulterated agony. He wanted to release an exvent, but there was no gas of any sort within his chambers. Just void. His plating flared nonetheless, and he felt like something had slammed down on him. Pinning Shockwave down from all sides. 

It made everything hurt more... The reaction was probably a little excessive, It had been awhile since he’d felt anything really. He didn’t appreciate the way his battered plating clamped down. His spark stuttered. The way his entire body tingled as if it was dunked in acid. For an instant he regretted pressing against the shadowplay until it crumpled. He didn’t want to feel this. 

He began frantically looking around the void, with a broken optic. Searching for something - someone… and he found it. There was a surge of color, and a rush of movement. A hole torn in his personal hell, that he was inevitably sucked towards. His endless spiralling ceased, and with painful abruptness, he shot towards the rift. 

Shockwave’s spark stuttered once more, and then he died. 

His torn up frame travelled until suddenly he was alive again. Then dead once more. And alive. And somewhere in between. Time bent under his hand unyielding grasp. Space took a step back. The ores flooded to him. He extended a finger tip across the universe, tracing along the tear he had been flung through, chasing the needle that broke it. Honing in on a red and blue autobot who was so very insignificant. The universe wept. Clawing at Shockwave. 

He died again.

The mech was determined this time. He hadn’t been stopped by death before, and he wouldn’t be stopped now. Shockwave shot an arm out. Punching a new hole in the black void before him. The universe cried out at first. Pushing him back with some sort of elasticity. He forced it harder, and harder. Until finally it gave way with a wave of force, that splintered his damaged optic even further. 

He beat the universe into submission, and grabbed onto Orion Pax. Yanking himself out of this cruel realm. His head, and arm suddenly back within reality, and he was alive again. His single servo clasped tightly onto the autobot’s leg. Orion was trying to shake him free. A hand shoved at the cracked head casing. A pede slamming into him repeatedly with the intention to knock him loose. He felt something break off of his chassis. His optic was splintered too far to divine any detail beyond the blue and red leg he clung to, like the lifeline it was. He wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t go back. His servo gripped tight enough to dent the metal.

His audials pinged online for a moment - one side. Only one finial was intact. Instantly he was bombarded with a cacophony of shouts and cries.

“-killing him!”  
“Pulling him down!”  
“Perceptor! Get over here!”  
“-your fault?”  
“What is that?!”  
“DO SOMETHING!”  
“- Sinking!” 

Oh… he was sinking, wasn’t he? 

He moved quickly, and purposefully. Releasing Orion for a moment, bracing his cannon arm on the metal floor while his hand climbed further up until he had a proper hand hold on the mech’s knee. He tried pulling himself out, but the structural integrity of his arm demanded otherwise. He was just hanging. Deadweight. He wanted to apologize - for past, and present - but his vox was hardly functional. Undecipherable static was all he could emit. 

Whatever realm was holding him down refused to release him. Something was pulling the other way too. It wasn’t just him who was being pulled in either. Orion was being tugged along in silence. Why wouldn’t he speak? He wanted so badly for the mech to provide even the slightest of encouragements… Maybe even a scream of terror. Hatred… Something...

Shockwave looked up. First at the blurry visage of Orion. Then noticing the crowd that had formed around them. Still shouting, yes, but their statements were nonsense to him. Too much. Too loud. Meaningless. He was unwillingly blocking it out - until a hand was thrust into his face. 

Were they helping?

Shockwave moved his arm - painfully - grabbing for the indistinct figure’s servo. The mech’s silhouette looked smaller than him. For an instant, Shockwave was worried he’d collapse into the portal, the mech unable to anchor him. But soon, more hands were on him. Pulling upwards. Pulling him from the black hole he was trapped in, and somehow managed to escape. The scientist in him wanted to analyze what was happening, but the fear in him overpowered everything. 

“Hold on big guy, we’ve got you.” A somewhat familiar voice said into his good audial.

“3… 2… 1… PULL!” 

There was a tug, and a searing pain. Wires, circuitry, and plating tearing apart, just below the spark chamber.  
And finally he screamed. A horrible, static laced wail. A single held note.

Shockwave - or some of him - was pulled free, and deposited onto the floor. The portal closed behind him as he laid there. Inert. Broken optic dim. Barely powered enough to even listen. 

“Scrap - scrap scrapscrapscrap - is he dead?!”  
“Primus, what -... Is that Shockwave?!”  
“YOU BROUGHT SHOCKWAVE ONTO MY SHIP?!”  
“Shut up! Everyone! Firstaid, get him to the medical bay. That’s the most important thing right now.”  
“-and have another Overlord situation?”  
“Does he look like he can cause another Overlord situation? Look at him. He’s got no legs, and his cannon is gone. Jeez and… yeah and I don’t think he can even see…”

He tilted his optical housing back. Letting the back wall of it knock lightly against the floor, as he stares directly upwards at the blue and red blur above him.

“-guys-”  
“By the Allspark, it looks like something chewed him up and spat him back out…”  
“-guys-”  
“Uhh… does anyone else think there should be uh…. I don’t know how to put this but… he isn’t bleeding…”  
“-GUYS! Help me pick him up!”

Shockwave felt hands wind under his arms. It hurt of course. Servos unintentionally digging into exposed wiring. He could do little more then let out a choked whimper, and feel his already fading consciousness slip away.

His last lucid thought, was realizing: that wasn’t Orion Pax he had grabbed.


	2. Crushed and Crystalline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shockwave wakes up, and wants answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Shockwave
> 
> Chapter Themes:  
> Rabbit Will Run - Iron & Wine

When Shockwave came to, he was in considerably less pain for one. The events of before were fresh on his mind, but blurred with energon loss, and delirium. Though there were the glaring gaps in certain spaces, but he decided to make the executive decision to focus on himself, rather than what happened. He was alive. His continued survival was most important. 

He looked down at his battered frame - noting immediately, that: one, his optic seemed to be repaired. Oddly enough, his vision was tinted from a yellow hue, to more of a pink, or purple. The world felt strange to see through that light, but he pushed it away. Looking at the monstrosity that was his body. Most of him was missing. His lower torso was torn away, and… cauterized… his cannon arm was removed. He could see the later locked up across the room, but it was far less concerning than his missing legs. 

The wound, which should have bled him dry of his energon was scabbed over by something crystalline. For a moment, he wondered if it was some new medical procedure to halt energon loss by reducing it to a solid state, but… no… Everything was sealed over like that. Every hole, even those that hadn’t struck a line. Filled with a jagged purple crystal. He lifted his good servo up to his helm. Feeling rough protrustions all around. A single crystal had overtaken his optic. Sharp, and unrefined. A sharp pillar rose from the empty space where his right audial had been. What pattern were the crystals following? How did they know what shape to conform to, without any physical guidelines? It couldn’t be symmetry, parts were missing on both sides of him. 

“What is this…” Shockwave muttered without thinking. For a moment he was surprised to hear his voice working again. Such a thorough repair. He turned his head as best as he could with the crystalline growths, in search of some sort of reflective surface, to see the extent in which he’d been altered.

“I would ask you the same.” His cannon arm shot up in old reflex. Pointing nothing more than a stump at the general direction of the speaker. He craned his neck as best as he could. Perceptor. He lowered his arm a fraction, and then fully. Recalling the mech had been there to rescue Shockwave. “Your arrival, your continued survival, the crystals. It’s all so baffling… but I suppose that’s what should be expected from you.” Shockwave would have been flattered if he wasn’t so very tired.

Shockwave had no intention of trying to explain something he himself had the barest understanding of. He pushed the question aside. Asking something unrelated of his own.  
“Where am I?” 

“Safe, and stable. You’re in an isolated medical ward. Where were you before you surfaced here?” 

Another question Shockwave didn’t quite know the answer to. He provided another question of his own in deflection.

“Where is Orion Pax? I didn’t drag him down, did I?”

Perceptor blinked in surprise. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, as if trying to figure out what to say. The look made Shockwave’s spark sink a little. Worry wormed its way into his mind. He tried to shove it away, but that only made him more and more concerned. His spark was stuttering again. 

“Is Orion Pax alive?” 

Perceptor met his single optic. 

“Answer my questions first, and I will answer yours. We’re both curious and don’t know enough about the situation. It will be beneficial to the both of us.” That sternness remained. Cold eyes waiting for Shockwave’s response but none came. 

His brain module was racing. Thoughts moving too quick to grasp onto anything. He hated this. When he was inventing, his thoughts moved quickly, but he processed each and every one. They followed a line of logic, and he could hold them and understand them. This was… too much. Too foreign. He couldn’t recall ever feeling this way, and thus, he chalked it up to emotion. 

He remained quiet. Trying for force his mind to be still, until finally the panic faded enough for coherence. Enough to try to explain where he was, with satisfactory detail. Though describing nothingness was difficult.

“I was in a void of some sort. A space between spaces, for certain. It was infinite in all directions as far as I could identify, and completely empty save for myself.” He paused. “I was displaced there due to the explosion of my chronal drive. Due to the vast number of ores channeled through it, I doubt I could concisely deem where, or when I was sent.” The ores… 

His hand shifted from his side. To his chest. Thumbing over a sharp ridge of purple crystal that rose from a gouged out part of his chest. 

“The crystals are most likely a corrupted form of one of my ores. My inference is ore-14, or ore-7. Perhaps ore-12, or even a combination of the three. None of the ores in their pure state behave in this manner. I will perform tests in order to find a conclusive answer, and see how the explosion could have altered them.” Right… more of it was coming together now. He was able to begin planning once more. 

Perceptor’s face stayed relatively blank, but Shockwave had always been fairly skilled at reading people. He was trying to figure it out for himself. Shockwave respected his fellow scientist, but the futility of it was amusing. When he opened his mouth, there was the slightest of smirks. 

“You sound so certain that we will allow you to perform tests, on elements you have proven to be highly dangerous.” Shockwave wanted to smirk back, but the ability to emote likely would have given unwelcome insight in this situation.

“We are both curious, and do not know enough about the situation. It would be mutually beneficial for us to study this.” Perceptor gave a single dry laugh. “You do not know anything about the ores in question. If you wish to learn about my state, and these crystals, you will need my help.” The confidence came naturally. 

It felt good to be back in his element. Studying something that only he could possibly understand. Plotting. Manipulating the strings. Though of course in this instance, the stakes were leagues lower than with his previous schemes. Here all Shockwave was after was a purpose, and enough trust to buy him a private conversation with Orion. No domination. No destruction. It felt almost… civilian in nature.

“That leaves one more question: how did you get here?” Perceptor followed up after a short time spent processing the information. Shockwave knew it was unlikely the scientist grasped everything. That only gave him an upperhand in his mission to cement himself as useful and helpful. 

“The void I was in was pitch black. There was nothing there, until something punched through, leaving a trail of color and light, before it punched out again. I followed it - empowered by the ores inhabiting my frame - and ended up here.” Shockwave left out the death, and violence in the act. It was unnecessary. 

“Now, I have answered your questions. If I understand the terms correctly, then you owe me answers.” Shockwave moved on. Optic never leaving Perceptor, who had folded his arms over his chest. A minor display of defensiveness. Suddenly Shockwave felt vulnerable. He had handed off his information willingly without anything in return. He had no leverage here. He could utilize whatever ores he had left, of course, but there was not much that would accomplish, in his state, and with his plan to play good bot. 

“Well? Is Orion Pax - or Optimus Prime - online? May I speak to him?”

Perceptor shifted from one pede to the other before reaching over Shockwave’s head, into his blindspot. Reflexively, Shockwave’s arm moved to shield his head. When Perceptor’s hand retreated, it was with a small metal box clutched in it - no… a recording device. 

Shockwave’s spark fluttered briefly. 

“Optimus Prime is dead. He is dead because of your actions.” And with that, Perceptor left. Leaving Shockwave alone with the crushing weight left on his processor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far! I intend to put up another chapter by January, but we’ll see. The hollidays are hectic.
> 
> Kudos appreciated! It lets me know how I’m doing.  
> Comments even more so. I love to hear theories, and opinions.


	3. Pushed Along a New Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shockwave adjusts to his new environment over the course of three days, and more is discovered about his presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Themes:  
> Forget What I Said - The Killers  
> No Crimes - Son Lux

In the days following, Shockwave didn’t get to speak to anyone. Medics were present, as were scientists. Whatever questions he asked would be dutifully shrugged off. Statements answered with a ‘hm’ when they felt generous.  
They would study him closely, and take samples of the ores growing from his chassis. He would never admit that it hurt. Physically, and emotionally. The crystals seemed tied to his sensornet. The scrapings they took were uncomfortable at the worst, and he had to resist the urge to move, or push the instrument away. He hadn’t said a word about it in a stubborn attempt to hold as many cards as he could, even though he was certain he had lost. 

On a less pressing note, being left to theorize how Orion died, without a single hint… that hurt. Though he had a way to get some information. He would ask about Orion, and see how they reacted to different statements. It was vague, but it helped. Looks of anger, sadness, or confusion helped narrow things down. 

His loss of lower body wasn’t alarming anymore, just… annoying.He spent the cycles laying on the surgery table. An energon drip wired into the stump of his cannon arm. His helm ducked as far into his chassis as he could in an attempt to catch even a few moments of recharge. Lulled by the sounds of the life support machines reading his vitals. 

His dreams were are bothersome as one might expect, from someone with that much death on his hands. They were less dreams, more… reliving the past. This time without the mindset that he had occupied for so long. One that lacked empathy, and morality, and was instead driven by a goal, and occasionally for entertainment. He wasn’t horrified, per say. Only mildly bothered with a distant voice in his processor saying ‘This isn’t right’ Until the perspective would shift, and he would be the one such horrors were afflicted on.  
Shockwave was never allowed to live through them long. The moment he showed distress, he was prodded awake. The medics ranged from showing mild concern, to seeming to be annoyed that he had fallen into recharge in the first place. Occasionally, he would lift his head up, and ask a question to whoever had woken him up, but he had deduced that anyone that interacted with him was under strict orders not to spare any information. Even trivial. One of the doctors went as far as to deny him the answer to when he’d get his next energon cube.

Over the course of a mega-cycle, responses to ‘How did Optimus Prime die?’ were reduced to an exceptionally annoyed “Shut up.” Until finally someone snapped, and told him what he needed to know, though it was not without its aggressiveness. Less about wanting to explain, more about getting Shockwave to stop asking.  
It was Ratchet who had told him. Explained everything coherently, and angrily. 

“You really want to know? Do you really, or is this just some pathetic attempt to rub rust in the wound?” In an instant, Shockwave had turned his head fully to face Ratchet. He heard the noises of the life support machines flare up. Betraying the mech’s excitement.  
“I want to know.” Shockwave answered in his contrasting monotone.

“Unicron. You summoned Unicron, and you fragged up, and Optimus needed to fix your mistakes.” Shockwave was quiet for a moment. Wondering if Ratchet was toying with him. Neither believed in higher power. Neither believed in a Primus, let alone a Unicron.

“Unicron does not-” “Doesn’t exist? No! No he doesn’t. You traumatized and brutalized an organic until he would play the part. Because that's what you do. You get something stuck in your head, and you don’t care what you destroy to make it a reality.” Ratchet continued his ranting. It wasn’t the explosion that killed Orion. He had learned that long ago, but ‘by your actions’ was vague to someone who had done so much, for so long. Which awful thing had done Orion in. It plagued him. But… Unicron?

“I apologize. I have come to regret-” a servo slammed into the table. Shockwave was reduced to listening without comment. 

“You spent millions of years playing god! That’s not some little mistake, Shockwave! You can’t just say ‘oopsie!’ and get forgiven! You did this! You killed him, and you nearly killed the rest of the survivors with him. Don’t apologize. Just be quiet, and stop with the questions.” 

After a mega-cycle of processing the most intangible of details, it felt odd to have so much information thrust his way. Information that made no sense…  
The mech watched Ratchet. His back was turned, and he was aggressively fiddling with a case full of tools. Too angry to use finesse, and unlock it. Shockwave braced himself, and spoke up again. 

“I did none of that.” Ratchet faced him once more. Pure anger alight in his optics. His fist clenched around a tool.  
“Shockwave! Take responsibility for your actions! You’re not a sparkling - far from it.” until suddenly, like a light went off in his head, he seemed calm. But Shockwave didn’t feel any less tense. 

“Wait… Shockwave, where were you before?” 

“Perceptor recorded the conversation-“ 

“No- no no, before that. Where were you before that space.”

“The Crystal City, Cybertron.” Ratchet’s anger seemed completely gone now. It was cautious curiosity. 

“Do you know Onyx Prime?”

“A mythological figure, created to empower the weak, and exist as a patron deity to cybertronians with beast alt modes. Why is this relevant?” 

“Shockwave. I’m going to take a sample of your innermost energon now, so open up.”

If Shockwave had felt like he knew what was happening before, he certainly didn’t make that claim now. Ratchet returned to gathering tools. Whispering to himself in odd statements that Shockwave could only catch mere syllables of. Nevertheless, he began pulled his chest open. Chipping away at the protective seal of crystal that had formed over the seam. The doors slid partially open with an awful grinding sound. Shockwave had to pry them the rest of the way open with his servo. It hurt, but of course he wouldn’t admit it.

“I am placing a large amount of trust in you, Ratchet. Understand that if you tamper with me in any way, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“Empty threats. You’re a smart mech. If you kill me, a crew member will kill you.” Ratchet returned quickly. Turning around to face him with a miniscule syringe in his hand. “But that goes both ways I suppose. I’m placing a lotta trust in you as well.” Shockwave didn’t appreciate how smug he looked. Or how intentionally vague he was being. 

Shockwave resisted the urge to flinch away when Ratchet descended, taking a single drop from the reserve around his spark casing. The second the doctor’s hand retreated, he closed his plating with a snap that made the crystals rattle. 

Bitterly, Shockwave noted that on top of giving all of his information for practically nothing in return, he was now giving away his innermost energon as well… 

The doctor looked at it for awhile. Taking a couple tools that Shockwave didn’t recognize to it. Ratchet’s caution gave way to confusion, confusion gave way to a sort of excitement. Meanwhile the mech himself was left in the dark. 

“Oh… Shockwave, you aren’t a cycle over seven million... “ Ratchet muttered to himself, before he raised his hand to his comm.  
“I could have told you-” “Shut up Shockwave.”  
“Everyone, meet me on the bridge in a klik. The Shockwave situation may have changed drastically.”

With that, Ratchet left without an ounce of explanation. He was left alone again.

Shockwave waited for a long while. Watching the passage of time on his chronometer expectantly. He knew it would take a while for them to come here, if they came at all. He was almost hoping that the crew would storm in at any moment to start interrogating, because at least it was something different. Though he gave up on that happening after some time. They would likely brief, and theorize about whatever this revelation was. If the team was large, then it could take cycles. 

Shockwave debated falling into recharge. He spent most of his time alone doing that, but scattered stasis naps did little to charge a battery when they were so sparse, and often interrupted before an optimal charge flow was attained. He decided not to. Wanting to be ready for whatever was to be thrown his path - even if it took a standard solar cycle to come about. 

So, he reached over his head with his one good arm, and blindly plucked something off the table behind him for entertainment. He pulled back with a laser scalpel. Handy.  
The autobots may have had him incapable of moving anything aside from his arm and head, but that wouldn’t stop him from performing experiments of his own. 

He took the laser scalpel to his chest plate. Making a small incision with the lowest intensity setting. It struck no line - he’d made sure of that - and he waited. Eventually the purely cosmetic scratch welled up with crystal dust. The ore overtook the wound entirely, filling with crystalline growths. Some time passed, and the crystal started crumbling off, leaving intact - but paintless - plating in its wake. 

So it wasn’t just a sealing, it was regenerative. Shockwave wondered how long the scientists had know the hypothesis to be fact, and never mentioned it. The thought made his vents involuntarily heave out a gust of hot air. How much else did they know? He was so very behind…

Shockwave took the scalpel to a crystal, and sliced a chunk off. Wincing audibly as he did so, before he took the chunk into his servo. Staring it down with his crystal optic. 

“Now what do you do if separated from the mass?” He whispered with a tilt of the head as he turned it in his thumb and forefinger. The crystal began crumbling away. The dust seeming to be sucked into his systems. Lower down, the crystal regenerated. 

Explained why they needed so many samples.

Shockwave cut off another chunk, and set it on the medical table. Away from his body enough that it wouldn’t melt back into his plating. The crystal held shape this time, but seemed to lose color steadily, until eventually it was completely clear. The only color, given by the tint of his optic. Shockwave raised the scalpel to take another sample, when suddenly the door opened.  
“Shockwave, you shouldn’t have that.” Ratchet said as if scolding a sparkling, making a B-line for the mech. Shockwave saw no gain in resisting, so he held it out voluntarily for it to be plucked out of his hand. Though his attention wasn’t on Ratchet. Instead, the mechs who had followed him in. 

Perceptor, Rodimus, and an orange and blue flier he’d never seen. Perceptor wasted no time.

 

“Shockwave. How familiar are you to the theories of alternate universes?” The tone was comforting. Scientist to scientist. No judgement. Just curiosity. The other questions were starting to make sense. The pieces fell into place. 

He wasn’t the Shockwave of their universe. 

“Quite familiar. In my universe I manipulated an alternate universe to free allies of mine. To deny their existence is foolish, and thus, I studied them.” Shockwave answered. 

“Ah. You did that in ours as well. That path likely split from there. The power of your chronal drive would certainly be sufficient enough to create an alternate reality or three.”

“Woah, woah woah pump the breaks, hold up - you already knew you were from another universe and didn’t think to share?” Rodimus shouted. Shockwave simply vented. 

“No, I was not aware until now. Ratchet’s questions made no sense to me. He spoke of things I had never done. Perceptor’s comment was a catalyst. Within the context, this being a reality other than my own is not the most illogical conclusion.” Rodimus seemed satisfied enough to let Perceptor to continue, though his evident agitation remained.

“Hm. Well then, no need skirting around the explanation. The Lost Light punched through our home universe into this one. We assumed you had somehow followed us from there, but it seems that rather, you were picked up from somewhere else… The Shockwave of our universe time traveled you see.” Perceptor began before passing the metaphorical baton to Ratchet.  
“Yes, he traveled to the dawn of Cybertron. The sample of innermost energon I tested placed your age at seven million. If you were our Shockwave, it would be closer to twenty million. Unless you somehow managed to reverse the aging process... “ 

Shockwave took everything in stride. Deciding easily that this wasn’t the most surprising thing to have happened to him. Breaking the universe was considerably more impressive than unwillingly finding yourself in another. The blue and orange mech at the back of the room looked positively giddy at the conversation.

“Oi, so how evil were you in your universe? Scale of forty to one hundred.”  
“Brainstorm…” Perceptor scolded quietly, though there was still a quite evident smile on his face as he saw what Brainstorm was fiddling with. Which Shockwave now noticed to be his cannon. Oh no… what were they doing to his cannon…

“Shush, no, really. Like fifty is uh… no, twenty, is time traveling to the past to save the world, and messing up a little bit, one hundred is trying to annihilate everything more than once.” Brainstorm continued. Still talking as if this was a joke.  
“Brainstorm, I mean it. Behave.” 

“A seventy three. Please do not alter my cannon.” Shockwave answered and requested, as sincerely as he could manage - which unsurprisingly, wasn’t too sincere. “Evil is a subjective term of course-“  
“Spoken like a true mad scientist.” Brainstorm lowered a torch to Shockwave’s cannon as if he hadn’t heard the latter part at all. Rodimus snickered quietly.

Shockwave vented, deciding he had no control over whatever it was that Brainstorm was doing, and returned to more pressing matters.  
“Do you have any intention of repairing me, and allowing me to begin studying my condition?” 

“What, so you can start another apocalypse event?” Rodimus scoffed.

“No. I simply wish to study the scientific applications of this ore mutation.”

“Ah… the applications. Like starting another apocalypse?” Rodimus folded his arms over his chest. Tilting his head down to the mech.

“I have no reason to destroy this universe. I just arrived.” 

Rodimus smiled to himself before moving onwards. “We’ll give you a chance, but you’ll be watched, got it? Perceptor and Brainstorm will oversee you because I don’t think anyone else knows enough sciency stuff to know if you’re actually up to no good. If you mess this up, that's it! To the brig! No lab privileges.” The terms were agreeable enough. Especially considering he had no logical reason to wreak havoc here yet.

His optic shifted to Perceptor and Brainstorm. The two glancing at each other in silent conversation. Both actually seemed somewhat happy about the conclusion. They whispered back and forth while Rodimus went on about strange ship rules - mostly regarding time travel, secret projects, and briefcases, until suddenly Brainstorm shouted back to him. Talking over Rodimus without any hesitation.

“What color do you want your legs to be? I was thinking green would like striking, yeah?” Shockwave didn’t have a chance to respond. “Also, what's your stance on knee cannons? Like guns in the knees. I can’t get any volunteers for that!” 

The entire room seemed to snap attention to Brainstorm in an instant. “NO GUNS!”

And at that, Shockwave laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo!! I actually made a dead line for once. This chapter is mostly just stage setting tbh. Now Shockwave is allowed to be happy-ish
> 
> Kudos appreciated! It lets me know how I’m doing.  
> Comments even more so. I love to hear theories, and opinions.
> 
> Chapter 4 due sometime January.


	4. The Nightmare Scenario

Brainstorm had hijacked the medical bay comms to ask questions whenever something important would come up, such as dimensions, or plating preferences. That's what he’d proposed at least. ‘Important’ topics ranged to talking about his lab partner, raving about the green paint he’d acquired, justifying knee guns, someplace called ‘Swerve’s’ that he’s been banned from again, and most alarmingly, talking about starting some sort of apocalypse club. Members exclusively being cybertronians on the ship who had nearly doomed the universe.  
The implications that others were on board made him question what exactly this ship’s purpose was. 

Nonetheless, within a day, Brainstorm had the legs complete. A feat that baffled the mech. He had initially pinned the flier as undisciplined, rowdy, and incompetent. Rowdy still very much applied, incompetent was off the table, and undisciplined was being questioned. 

The mech had said ‘Alrighty, all done!’ over the comms.  
Shockwave logically presumed it was the schematics he had completed, but in no time at all, Brainstorm was standing in the medical bay doorway, with a pair of hideously green, disembodied legs slung over shoulder. 

“Right then! Ready to get some new stompers?” Brainstorm called out, and instantly, Shockwave was filled with dread.  
“Brainstorm, I have concerns…”  
“Don’t worry, suuuure Ratchet banned me from performing any medical related procedures - especially on you, but-”  
“The guns. You were told not to include guns in the knee caps.”  
“They aren’t loaded, and I haven’t even made any ammo for them yet. But, jeez, for a mech who’s made a few doomsday devices in his career, you sure are a stickler for the rules.”

“My concern lies more in structural integrity. If I were to fire these knee canons-” “Call them knanons Shockwave” “-if they were to fire, what is to stop them from breaking my leg? I do not see any accomodation for recoil, Brainstorm.” Brainstorm pulled the legs off of his shoulder, and stared at them for a long moment. Optics narrowed.  
“Knee lasers… knasers… Shockwave, as soon as you get free roam of the ship, I call dibs. You’re my lab partner.” 

“My other concern is the rest of your crew inferring that I requested the guns, and assume I intend to use them.” Shockwave said, to which Brainstorm simply shook his head. 

“No, no, don’t worry, Perceptor will cover for you. He knows I did the cannons. He just couldn’t stop me.” He stated with that same enthusiasm.

“Oh.” Shockwave was a little off set. Someone like him felt like they would be more inclined to join the Decepticons… he held most of the common traits: a skill that defied altmode restrictions, an apparent aversion to authority, a love for weaponry, and… that eccentricism. Though there were always outliers. 

Brainstorm moved forwards. Holding the legs out in front of him as he began inspecting the jagged tear of Shockwave’s chassis. Now overgrown with crystalline protrusions. The flier brought a hand to his faceplate contemplatively, leaning in closer, dumping the prosthesis onto the table haphazardly, and staring. 

“That's uhh… solid chunk of crystal right there. Yeah, I may need Ratchet after all…” excitement in his voice was giving way to disappointment. 

Internally, Shockwave was relieved. Ratchet was likely to put him under. Pain receptor compliant crystal being cut through to reach his spinal strut sounded unpleasant. Perhaps even excruciating if they intended to chip it away slowly. Suddenly, a hypothesis struck him. He only had to hope that this scientist had the same type curiosity. The type that made one disregard safety, when a truly fascinating opportunity presented itself. 

“The ore has regenerative properties. It has been repairing damage to my frame, but has gone beyond patching up holes.” Shockwave lifted his hand, pointing at his crystal audial. “It’s objective seems to be to fully restore my frame, even without having a guideline.”

Brainstorm was staring up at him. Yellow optics locked onto his singular purple lens.  
Oh he had the flier’s attention in an iron grip.

“Do you want to test the boundary of what it would consider a component of myself? To see if the ore would accept foreign metal, and incorporate it into its repairs?” Shockwave continued, gesturing to the crystal.  
He looked up to see Brainstorm positively beaming. His wings were fluttering, but he doubted the flier was aware. Brainstorm repositioned the legs. Lining up them up with the wound. Shockwave could no longer see what was happening over his chest, and resigned to watching Brainstorm’s face, and attempting to feel for any changes.

For a little while, Shockwave just felt the metal bumping against him. A slight tingle along the wound. Crystal generating friction against frayed wires, he assumed, but nothing more. 

“Maybe it doesn’t like the paint…”

“Illogical, the ore would have no semblance of sentience, or sapience.” 

Without warning, Brainstorm broke a piece of crystal off with his thumb. Shockwave groaned in pain, caught off guard, and once again, he had Brainstorm’s rapt attention.

“Woah- you can feel these?!” 

“Unfortunately.”

“AND YOU DIDN’T THINK THAT WAS IMPORTANT?! Man… this changes everything, like…”

Brainstorm didn’t finish the statement. Simply returning to rub at various crystal protrusions. He was trying to elicit a response most likely. It was a game Shockwave quickly grew bored of. The only feedback he received was discomfort. Sensitive enough for him to be a little too aware of it.

“Are you done?” With that, the mech drew his hand back.  
“Yeah… hey, do you like the paint?” Brainstorm shifted the legs again. Bumping them in a stubborn attempt to get it to connect.  
“I fail to see how that is relevant.”  
“Well, I thought the crystal wouldn’t do its thing because the paint was off, but if the crystal is you, then maybe it’s because you don’t like it.” Shockwave scoffed at the idea. He disliked the color, but surely a desire to have legs overpowered that. Besides, he had no evidence that the ore was even under his control any longer.  
“So it is in fact irrelevant. Get Ratchet, and perform a manual connection.” A pause. “And I do dislike the paint, but it is hardly a factor.” 

Brainstorm continued looking at the legs. Primarily the topmost part of the hips, and abdomen. Thumbing over the connection once or twice before letting out a pouting sigh. 

“Do you have a distaste for Ratchet performing the task?” Shockwave asked.

“No, he’s a great doctor. I just know he’ll make me take out the cannons, and strip the paint. That's several hours extra.” He should have been relieved. However seeing the usually obnoxiously upbeat mech in such a state was… bothersome, or... annoying? Whatever it was, he cared enough to try comfort.

“That simply gives you time to improve the model.” Shockwave gestured to the legs from over his chest. “Be glad you do have time for revisions. Fast work is impressive, but also prone to oversight and malfunction.” 

Brainstorm squinted at Shockwave for a long moment. The mech wondered if he had offended instead, but was eventually answered.  
“You just want knasers more than knannons, or purple paint more than green. That's fine, you could have just said-“ mid sentence, Brainstorm dropped the legs with an undignified shriek, and jumped backwards.

A flurry of fear, and curiosity overtook Shockwave, and he forced himself as upright as he could manage with no lower body.  
He followed Brainstorm’s terrified gaze down to the floor. As slowly and carefully as he could, Shockwave leaned over the table. Clinging to the edge with his one hand, while his stump arm held him steady as he teetered along the rim of his chassis. There was a writhing mass of purple crystal in a vaguely ‘pair of legs’ shape. Spires of ore shooting outwards only to crumple or recede onto itself. It flailed about, propelled by the spikes that came and went without pattern. All the while its pulleys and pistons had it kicking out - and in the rare moments it found itself vertical, even jumping.

The fear quickly faded in favor of scientific curiosity.  
“That's ore! Perhaps the properties are contagious, but that doesn’t explain the violent reaction. Is it because no energon flows through if yet? Or maybe -“

“PERCY, NEED YOUR HELP AT MEDICAL BAY 8 -“ Brainstorm let out another shriek directly into his comm, and jumped away into a wall as the now consumed legs spasmed towards the flier. “PERCY HURRY HURRY HURRY I THINK THE LEGS ARE GONNA EAT ME!” 

“BRAINSTORM! Focus! Retrieve a sample from the specimen, and cross reference it with a stable sample from my chassis!” Brainstorm gawked at Shockwave. Audibly scoffing.  
“And get my arm bitten off? No thank you! My continued survival is most important.” 

Shockwave growled in frustration. The feeling foreign. It felt like it was boiling under the surface of his plating.  
Cowardice in the face of risk was disappointing to say the least.  
“Brainstorm, that is an order. Retrieve a sample, if you lose an arm, then that is a fair price to pay for progress.” Shockwave shouted over the clanging, and Brainstorm responded with a sputter, as he climbed onto a table to flee the mass of ore further.

“One: no. Two: you don’t order anyone around. Three: don’t be an aft when you’re asking someone to sacrifice one or more of their limbs!” 

The legs positioned themselves well, and without warning, they launched themselves straight into the ceiling. Brainstorm of course shrieked louder and cowered further. Using a clipboard as a shield against what wasn’t attacking him.

“Its movements are mindless and uncoordinated. It most likely would not fight you off. Just be quick with the scalpel.” 

“No, you do it.”

“I would if I could get up, but my legs are otherwise preoccupied.”

“Woah, was that a joke?”

It was at that moment the door opened to reveal a winded Perceptor.  
“Brainstorm you said the legs were - oh dear, I see…” Finally someone who would get something done. 

Perceptor moved quickly and without hesitation. Walking into the room, giving the legs a wide berth as he moved along the perimeter of the medical bay. He held out a hand to Brainstorm, and yanked the flier off of the ledge right into his own arms. Depositing the cowardly mech outside the door. Out of harm's way. With Brainstorm now safe, Perceptor examined the legs from afar for a moment.

“Perceptor, take a sample.” Shockwave ordered with a more level head. 

Perceptor looked down at him for a moment. Expression unreadable before the scientist promptly backed out of the room, and locked the door behind him.

And thus, Shockwave was abandoned in an empty medical bay.

With a thrashing pair of legs that flailed and hopped about on spasming pistons. 

Fantastic.

* * *

Over the course of an hour, the legs made a mess of the room. Bouncing around, clearing equipment off of tables, and slamming into walls. Shockwave still wanted to know what was happening, yes, but at the moment, he just wished the noise would stop. 

After awhile, he laid back down. Patiently waiting for help to return. The powerlessness of his state was really starting to settle in, and eat at him. If he had a form of ambulation, he could move about, and contain this himself. If he had his cannon, he could fire an energy blast at it and neutralize it. But alas, his cannon was still locked up across the room.

The next cycle, the legs managed to catapult themselves into the table, knocking it onto its side, depositing Shockwave onto the floor. The mech continued to wait for assistance. Taking cover behind the makeshift shield. He called for help, knowing cameras and intercoms were present, but no reply came.

So he decided he’d have to take care of himself, if they were intent on quarantining him. Shockwave managed to evade the erratic bouncing of the legs, and claw his way across the medical bay floor with his good arm, to where he recalled his cannon was housed. It was arduous, and stressful, grinding his already battered chestplate across the floor while the mass of ores were wreaking havoc around him. Pulling himself up onto the table was even harder than the crawling, especially with a close call of the legs hitting the wall above him. The range of its movements were narrowing. Perhaps it wasn’t so mindless after all...

Once seated on the desk, he easily reached the oversized lockbox his cannon was stored in. Attaching it was the easiest part yet. The removal had been clean. It slotted into place with little more than a push, and reactivated after he reconnected four wires, and the powerline. He stretched the familiar limb once or twice, and tried to figure out what next.

Either destroy it, or risk getting closer to take a sample. He wouldn’t mind the latter, but he was weak. His plating frail and sparse. His energon supply reasonable, but abysmal when a low energy efficiency cannon would be running on the same supply. 

Shockwave mulled over it for awhile, until the decision was made for him as the legs shot across the room, straight for the mech.  
Shockwave fired the cannon on instinct, but there was no great blast, or the telltale sign of energon drain occuring to power the mechanism, no… instead, a flash of colorful glitter, and a blast of sound before a hip joint met his optic in a brutal fashion, knocking the mech out, outright.

* * *

Shockwave groaned in pain. Rubbing his servo over his helm as he stared into a fluorescent light above him. He felt the myriad of cracks that were already forming a crust of ore over them.  
His vision was back to its familiar yellow hue, and splintered. His optic was broken. Again. 

The erratic thunking had stopped too. Either the legs had run out of ore to power them, or they had been destroyed. He forced himself to sit. Propping himself up on his cannon arm as he searched the floor for shrapnel from the countertop. With his distorted vision, it was hard to tell apart debris from medical equipment… 

He offlined his optic a few times. Hoping it would reset, and clear up in the slightest, but it remained the same. Idly he rubbed his knee, and then it hit him. 

He looked down. Damaged optic or no, the bright green paint was unmistakable. 

He shifted his pede, and watched the green mass shift along with him. Definitely attached. He shifted his hand downward, running blunt fingertips along the break under his spark casing. Previously overgrown with large protrusions, now a small pink line, connecting him and his new body part like an adhesive.

Shockwave hopped off the table. A cascade of glitter fell off of him, earning a grunt of annoyance as he walked to stand right in front of the camera. 

“The situation has been neutralized. My hypotheses are that the ore spread to the prosthesis and would have attached naturally if contact was prolonged. However upon removal, the ore either reacted violently when separated from the main mass, or was attempting to find its way back to me to resume connection.” Shockwave spoke calmly. Unable to help himself from testing his new legs, even as he was giving a report.

“I would like to say that I do not appreciate being disarmed by both definitions of the word.” He activated his cannon once more for emphasis. Sighing heavily when all that came out was an eruption of glitter, and the distinct sound of a party horn. “The ‘joke’ could have killed me if the mass of ore had malicious intent when I fired on it.” Shockwave continued. 

He waited a few moments. Hoping for a reply of some sort. When none came, he stated his intentions. 

“If no one replies within the next cycle, I will leave this room and search for Brainstorm to perform a check up on my new equipment.” 

A cycle came and went. All the while, Shockwave waited patiently. During the time, ore had overtaken his optic, restoring his sight. He almost wished it hadn’t. The mess of glass, metal, and glitter everywhere was repulsive to him, even as someone who let his own workstation overflow into organized chaos.

However the gift of sight allowed the scientist something else. He occupied himself by opening up his cannon arm to assess the damage itself.  
He had anticipated the primer was removed, and the energon supply line disconnected, and replaced with a pouch of glitter. What he found was somehow worse… 

The inside of his cannon had been completely gutted. All firing mechanisms removed. The energon line was set to trickle into a new chamber, to be saturated with water, solidified, and pushed through a grate to form flecks of glitter. Into a barrel for storage, until fired. The sensor Shockwave activated to release a catalyst to create a blast of plasma, was rewired to a traditional firing pin. When triggered, it forced the glitter out at high speeds. The party horn sound was achieved by the rush of air through the chamber, and a literal party horn mounted next to it. 

Shockwave was baffled by the complexity of such a petty prank. How much thought had gone into it. He had hoped it would have been easy to fix, but at this point, it would make more sense to create a new cannon from scratch, rather than repair this one. He would have been impressed, if he wasn’t so thuroughly annoyed.

He closed his arm back up, shaking his head in disbelief before deciding it was time he went. He wrote a note on a clipboard - ‘refer to the security footage’ - and put it in clear view of the camera before he walked to the door. 

It wasn’t locked, like he’d thought. Either someone had unlocked it, or Perceptor wasn’t as perceptive as once thought. The second the door opened, Shockwave was hit with yet another surprise in a long running list of surprises. Outside was a long hall. To his right was a dead end, to his left, a seemingly endless corridor, with quite a few bots sparsely littered about.

Much larger than anticipated… he would most likely need assistance in finding Brainstorm’s lab...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No chapter themes for this one, because I couldn’t find any.  
> Next chapter due sometime later this month.
> 
> Kudos and comments appreciated, as always!


	5. Surges and Other Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we’re building. Building towards **something**
> 
> Also the word count is so satisfying, I wish I could say I planned that to happen

>>2 hours ago

Rodimus tapped his pede inessently as he stared through the Lost Light’s windows, down at the comparatively small craft that had materialized just below them in a burst of light indicative of a warp. By small, it looked like it could house thirty bots comfortably, from the exterior, but really, if it tried anything, the Lost Light would have no difficulty steam rolling it. Buuuut it looked completely unarmed - well, that was incorrect. It had an arm. A manipulator claw for moving heavy cargo, and obstacles outside the ship. Just no weapons.

Ultra Magnus was trying for the umptenth time to hail them. As if just greeting, and announcing their presence would magically solve the barrier between them. Rodimus thought it was a language barrier. Perceptor thought it was a technology barrier. Megatron thought ‘I’ve never seen a ship like that before…’ and when asked again, just shrugged, and added “The plating style is for an old cybertronian war ship, but downsized, and stripped of all weapons.” 

So they were stuck in a weird stalemate. 

“Unknown Vesal. Unknown Vesal. Unknown Vesal, this is the Lost Light. We mean you no harm. Please state your designation, and intentions by broadcasting externally, or switching to the communications frequency we have provided, over.” Ultra Magnus said yet again. 

Perceptor was typing something on the console towards the back of the room. What it was, Rodimus had no idea, and no interest in asking. The answer would either be ‘solving this’ or something long and sciencey that Rodimus couldn’t parse for the first three explanations. He was about to say something about beating up the keyboard when suddenly Brainstorm’s voice screamed from Perceptor’s datapad, out into the otherwise quiet room. Startling everyone. Except for Megatron of course, who just turned around calmly, while the others snapped to attention.

“PERCY, NEED YOUR HELP AT MEDICAL BAY 8 -“ a moment’s pause and a loud thunk in the background. “PERCY HURRY HURRY HURRY I THINK THE LEGS ARE GONNA EAT ME!” Then another voice. “BRAINSTORM! Focus!” And oh Primus, that was Shockwave… 

“I… I should uh… go take care of that!” Perceptor scooped the device up, looking embarrassedly down at his holopad. Eyes wide as he quickly began lowering the volume quickly. 

“Yes you should.” Megatron responded. And with that, Perceptor bolted out the door. Full on sprint. Rodimus shook his head in pity. The whole bridge was quiet for a bit. The other two, in shock. Rodimus, barely contained laughter.  
Finally, Ultra Magnus broke the silence.

“Unknown Vesal. Unknown Vesal. Unknown Vesal, this is the Lost Light. We mean you no harm. Please state your designation, and intentions by broadcasting externally, or switching to the communications frequency we have provided, over.” 

“Why don’t we just go around them?” Rodimus asked. Deciding this was all too tedious to him. 

“They are too close. If we start moving again, we will undoubtedly crush them.” Ultra Magnus responded.

“Their fault.” 

“Rodimus!”

“I’m kidding. Uh… Why don’t we just reverse?”

“Rodimus the engines are on the back of the ship. They cannot be angled backwards. If they could, all we would do is blast a hole in the ship. Now, if you will excuse me…” Ultra Magnus leaned back into the microphone. “Unknown Vesal. Unknown Vesal. Unknown Vesal, this is the Lost Light. We mean you no harm. Please state your designation, and intentions by broadcasting externally, or switching to the communications frequency we have provided, over.” 

Rodimus crossed his arms, and stared down at that ship even more. Willing it to move. Until finally it did. The ship’s front panel parted, and it sent a rudimentary communication. A universally standard nonverbal form of communication, a series of small energy bursts that could be decoded into words. The ship had only said one word, with a lilting burst at the end to connotate a question: ‘‘Robots?’ 

Rodimus and Megatron glanced at each other for a quick moment. Both distrustful. Ultra Magnus awaited the sign to answer. 

“Odd question.” Rodimus mused. He wished Nightbeat was still alive. The bot would’ve been able to crack this wide open by now.

“Agreed. However it is too broad of a question to fit a motive too… Especially without seeing who the speaker is. Could be a trap, or a call for companionship. Could even be a trade ship, announcing their wares.” Megatron brought a hand to his chin in thought. “Answer ‘yes’.” Rodimus nodded in agreement, and soon, Ultra Magnus was sending pulses of their own in response. 

As soon as Magnus finished his typing, the small vessel moved from their path, and moved onwards. Disappearing in another flash of light.

“Well that's that. Onward!”

* * *

>>Present

The hallways were mildly populated with bots in a mild hurry. Too occupied to take too much notice of Shockwave strolling. Not panic, per say. Just hurrying back to their quarters from the looks of it. The ship bore the signs of prolonged occupation. Scrapes and dents on the tile and walls that came with a lived in place. Analog messages boards were posted, with various events that illuminated the existence of a flourishing community, and apparent nightlife on the ship. Movie nights, discount days at a bar, and a few vendors, selling novelties and treats that couldn’t be obtained while out of port. It was like a recreation of the pre-war cybertron community. 

They even had a nightclub. 

He almost felt nostalgic of the days when his routine had included finding the perfect club that teetered between grimy and upscale, where a senator could find people that didn’t care about his rank. Parties too. He had been quite the socialite... but they weren’t experiences he craved any longer. They belonged to a life long since past. A waste of time that had only degraded his public image in preparation for an ultimate downfall. It was a waste of time he would never humor again. And thus, he moved right past those ads. 

For a while, he stood there. Sifting through bulletins, half with a purpose. He tried to recall if the Decepticons had any community like this. If there was, it flew under him, or he hadn’t cared enough to commit it to processor.

“Oh, Primus, you look awful… I mean the paint, the glitter… what was it, 3 shannix shot night at Visages?” Shockwave was almost startled by the voice. He turned quickly.  
“Oh- Shockwave! Hiiii… uh, don’t worry, the paint and glitter… - yeah, you make it work!” The mech was unarmed. Clearly showing it, as he backed off with his hands raised. Shockwave vented quietly. The fear was amusing, and had it been any other circumstance, Shockwave likely would have manipulated the situation further to his entertainment. But for now, his focus was to get to anyone with equipment he could examine himself with. 

“Halt.” Shockwave ordered. The mech went stock still. Face betraying a look of horror the scientist was well acquainted with. The kind that generally went hand in hand with obedience. “I require your assistance. Take me to Brainstorm’s lab.” The stranger squirmed uncomfortably for a moment, taking an unnecessary and awkward sip of his drink before he continued.  
“I can’t…” It was a statement that lacked spines. It was more of an admission than resistance. Curious.

“Why not?” Shockwave asked with a tilt of his head.

“That half of the ship is locked up - you know that power surge that hit awhile back?” Shockwave nodded. Deducing he must have been unconscious when it occurred. “Yeah, the blast made stuff start acting acting up, and Brainstorm’s lab is probably the most dangerous room in the ship, even without the destabilized experiments, and unlocked doors…”

So that was two rooms that no longer had intact, or accessable equipment. It was likely there was another medical bay aside from the one he’d destroyed, but Shockwave lauding power over the injured while he worked on what could be a doomsday device? That was a risk. Even if the autobots did understand what he was doing, it was an obvious power play.

“Take me to Perceptor.” 

“But he’s on the bridge-“

“Then take me to the bridge.” 

“Ok, you’re new here, I know, but the bridge is not the place you want to be when there’s a miniature crisis happening.” Shockwave let the silence drag on, staring at the mech until he got the cue that he was supposed to continue “Seriously.” 

“You are going to bring me to the bridge, and you are going to fill me in on the details of this crisis, and the power surge.” The mech brought a servo to his face. Pinching the bridge of his nose. Muttering in disbelief before he gave in.

“Fine. Fine! But you are NOT getting me dragged into this. I quite fancy remaining alive.” Seemed to be a common trait on the ship. 

The mech took a step away from Shockwave, and transformed to his alt mode quickly. Vehicular. Shockwave hesitated for a moment. Glancing downwards at himself. Covered in crystal. Transformation seams crusted over. If he tried to switch modes, he could injure himself, perhaps even puncture a line. 

“No. We will be walking.” Even if he could safely transform, Shockwave doubted his altmode could even fly with all the changes to his frame he had yet to adapt to. 

“No, you’re walking.” and with that, the mech began rolling along, with Shockwave closely in tow.

* * *

>>1 hour ago

Brainstorm was pacing back and forth through the lab. Left hand scratching his faceplate while the other servo was resigned to moving along with his words. He was nervously chattering. Wings fluttering, and engine idly spinning, as flight frame instincts warned him that he might have to fly off to escape this inescapable danger. Of course coded instincts lacked nuance. The danger wasn’t physical. He wasn’t going to be chased down by Shockwave, or a pair of legs, no. It was unfortunately more insidious than that. 

“I mean, if the crystals’ contagious like we think, then is it direct contact? Indirect contact? Are the medical staff at risk, or just me because I was touching the legs when they had the reaction? I mean if so, unfortunate. Pink is not my color.” 

Perceptor had taken Brainstorm back to their shared lab after rescuing him from the legs. Brainstorm was more chattery than usual, thanks to the nerves. 

“I’m more of a blue and orange type of mech - obviously - if the ore was a handsome teal we might not have a problem - if it was stable -”

“You don’t have to pretend you aren’t scared. It is just me. I will not think lesser of you.” Percepter interrupted, to ensure calmly. Giving a slight smile as he looked up from the monitor. Brainstorm froze up for a long moment. Nerves again. A better kind this time. He smiled briefly with his eyes, before his expression fell to something uncharacteristically serious. 

“Right. Right, so I’m terrified that this is going to kill me, and I’ll flail around like those legs because that's -” Brainstorm’s wings shuddered, and he clenched his fists in aprehension “- terrifying. Looks painful, and I don’t really want to… you know…” Perceptor paused his work. Looking up at Brainstorm in a nod to continue if he wanted to. “I… don’t want to die. You know that. But the thought that I might kill someone and it’ll be out of my control…” Brainstorm fell quiet. Perceptor didn’t need him to continue. He hesitantly brought his hand to Brainstorm’s with the intent to hold it close. He wanted to bring it to his spark chamber. Be reassuring. But it was a bad idea. Perceptor drew his hand back with an apologetic smile. 

“Yeah… no touching. Until we’re sure its gone.” Brainstorm stated easily. Still made happier by the aborted gesture. “As nice as the attention is, you should finish.”

“I’m already done. I just didn’t want to interrupt you.” 

His hands danced along the keys in a stroke Brainstorm recognized to be the command to compare data. In an instant, Brainstorm was hovering over Perceptor’s shoulder, and looking at the screen. Chest a mere meter away from his back. 

On the screen were two timelapse scans of Brainstorm. One before the chemical shower they had decided was necessary upon returning to the lab. Perceptor had mapped all the changing variables, and highlighted the chemical signature of the ore. In the first one, his hands were completely highlighted, with a few specks along the forearms. In the time lapse, they were cascading onto the fingertips, however not growing, or rooting into the sensor net as they did with Shockwave. The second scan was perfect. It was impossible to tell the difference between it, and Brainstorm’s standard medical file scan. 

“Chemical shower took all of that nastiness out.” The flier observed. Deciding contact was fine for now, as he slumped against Perceptor’s back with a vent of relief. 

“I haven’t taken my chemical shower yet. I’m still contaminated.” 

Brainstorm was off of him again. Shooing Perceptor. Grabbing his arm, and pulling him up and out of the chair. “Then gooooo! I’ll wash - or dispose - of anything we touched, and take a shower after you.” He insisted. Perceptor reached to type a few more things, and save the files as he was pulled away by an upbeat Brainstorm. The happiness was contagious. Perceptor’s processor darted to the possibility of maybe getting some energon goodies and high grade, and making a night of their continued survival, but then… no. Shockwave was still to be worried about. Neither of them could relax while that mech was in his current state. 

He almost didn’t bring Brainstorm back to the lab. Back when he was a Wrecker, the focus was always the mission. If someone was hurt, you kept moving. If someone was dead, you stepped over the corpse. Always stick with your team, but never let the state of your team delay the mission. 

Perceptor stepped into the shower. Pressing a few buttons to start the full decontamination, safe on a cybertronian. A light green liquid began raining down on him from above. A gentle pitter patter upon his plating.

He almost left Brainstorm in the hall to deal with the legs himself. Almost. Perceptor had long since accepted that the end was always more important than the paths that lead you there, and the paths you considered taking. It had been but a moment. He hesitated in the doorway. Three options presented before him: Make sure Brainstorm remained safe, examine the specimen, and then of course the option that Perceptor kept steady in his head since the beginning: kill Shockwave and end the experiment early. 

The side jets turned on, power washing Perceptor from all directions, with force that hurt a little bit.

Shockwave had demanded his choice be to let Brainstorm fend for himself. Of course it was. Shockwave may boast emotions, and a care for others now, but he was still selfish. He had no ties here, and Perceptor doubted he ever would. The decision to help Brainstorm was fated to win out even before the other options came into play, and yet Shockwave actually angered Perceptor. 

His conjunx came before the experiment. 

Suddenly the stream went violently hot, enough to earn a yelp, before it went dangerously cold. Frigid. The warm stream of chemicals turned into a noxious yellow steam that could kill an organic, to a powdery ice being blasted at him. His core temperatures dropped dangerously fast upon contact. Something was wrong. Outside the shower, he heard a distinctive “Oh noooo!” from Brainstorm, and a more worrying “UH-OH” from the lab’s early warning system. In an instant, Perceptor kicked the front of the Chemical shower open. Stumbling out, with a wave of green snow pouring out behind him. From the outside, he manually closed the shower mechanism. Brainstorm was kneeling beside a controlled environment storage container. Head in his hands.  
“No… no. No no no nonononono!” 

“What is it? What’s happening?”

“Power surge. All of our systems are reset. The analog stuff is fine, but - ugh… - almost all of our controlled environments are destabilized, and the locks on the weapons crates look fried.”

“Oh scrap…” Perceptor’s mind went to high gear. Trying to remember what the most dangerous samples were, what would be at risk - that definitively shut down his thoughts of a date night… 

Then in unison, the scientists stated the obvious.  
“We need to get to the bridge.”

Perceptor looked around the lab once more. His monocle scanning heat signatures, noting a few samples were beginning to freeze, and others melt… 

“No. You go. Fly ahead, I’m going to seal up the lab, to make sure we don’t stack a crisis on top of another potential crisis.” Perceptor explained with a nod. Brainstorm looked like he was going to argue for a second, but Perceptor kept talking. “Decontaminate yourself on the way back with the the spray bottle. Just your hands and your chest, and you should be fine, but don’t touch people unless you have to, just to be careful.” Brainstorm nodded this time. Already moving to the door, halfway transformed. 

“Love you! Don’t burn your servos off!” the flier called behind him. It sounded like he had added something else, but it was overpowered by the roar of his engines kicking in.

* * *

>> Present

 

In Brainstorm’s absence, Perceptor managed to freeze samples that could take it, to lengthen their life expectancy, and dispose of whatever wouldn’t survive, or had already started to decompose. He then proceeded to hide the weapons boxes, manually shut the vents leading out, and weld the lab entrances shut. The shower as busted, as were all the locks in the room, but that could be fixed later.

It hadn’t been as fast as he had hoped, but it was secure. No one would be getting in, and getting ahold of any of Brainstorm’s more nasty tech while they were gone, and more importantly, nothing would be getting out. While Perceptor was eager to get back to the command team to figure this out - if Brainstorm hadn’t figured it out already - he knew there was something else that needed to be done. 

Shockwave would be left alone, with fried locks, and no supervision. He could be dead by now, given the situation he was left in, but Perceptor knew not to be so optimistic. Shockwave was resilient. More than a mech should have any right to be. Knowing his exploits, he could easily turn the situation to his advantage, or could even be behind this. 

Perceptor planned to weld the medical bay door shut. Keep the dangerous mech, and the crystalline contamination trapped in there. With his gun arm utterly out of commission, and his weakened frame, there wouldn’t be much he could do to escape after that. Though he did find a trace of a smile forming at the thought of him showering the door in glitter in a feeble attempt to escape. Though that smile vanished as soon as he turned the corner into the dead end hallway they kept him.

The door was wide open. It was dead silent. That clanging, thudding, and shouting had died.

Scrap.

Perceptor held up the welder nonetheless, priming his shoulder cannon as he cautiously peeked into the medical bay. It was ransacked. Worse than when he had last seen it. The tile floor was cracked, and broken in many place. Panels of the ceiling were knocked to the ground, tables and life support machines were overturned, and that went without mentioning the cover of glass, paper, crystal shards, and glitter along the ground. But there was no Shockwave, or legs. 

This was the nightmare scenario. No way to check what happened, no means of- 

Perceptor stopped the train of thought. Noticing something suspiciously intact. A tool cart, with a clipboard propped up on it. Held in place by a partially intact beaker. It was positioned right in front of the most visible security camera. 

Perceptor entered the room carefully. Checking behind the door, and looking behind and under every surface as he walked into the center of the room, to examine the display left for him. He expected the worse. 

‘refer to the recording’ 

That was all that was written. He’d left a note for when the cameras came back online. An order to see what he had done… Ugh. Shockwave was behind this, and he’d been loose for at least a cycle. Perceptor regretted not ordering Brainstorm to check on Shockwave first, before he went to the bridge, but it was too late for that now. Shockwave was out and about, likely with a new pair of legs, and who knew what he was after. His motivations could be anything! 

Perceptor walked out of the demolished lab, with a tired groan. They had no means to track the mech either. The best he could do was rush to the bridge and inform everyone he was at large, and hope he’d gotten there before the mech could do any more damage. 

Then something caught his eye. A dull glimmer from the ground. 

Perceptor couldn’t restrain a genuine smile. Shockwave had left a glitter trail! Oh, how he would thank Brainstorm for that later. The scientist activated his monocle. Setting it to highlight the energon glitter. Sure enough, there was a clear trail.  
Without any hesitation so to speak, Perceptor broke into a sprint, and gave chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll try to get out the next chapter within a week or two! I have the framework done for the next chapters, so they should work themselves out faster.
> 
> As always, likes and comments appreciated!


	6. Converge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the delay on this, I was stubbornly trying to fit two chapters into one, but I'm giving up on that now. Next chapter should be within a month.

The walk to the bridge was uneventful, but difficult. The autobot he had ordered to bring him to the bridge was a chatterbox, which was fortunate for Shockwave in his aim in gathering a vague idea of what happened. Though that fortune faded, when the chatter became nothing but a headache that made him feel weary. The weariness grew exponentially until Shockwave finally recognized it as a completely unrelated exertion. 

Shockwave had managed to walk for about fifteen minutes before atrophied systems, had him leaning against the wall in an attempt to recover from the sudden exhaustion. He debated mechanical failure, sensornet death, or maybe ores crusting around his joints, though what he suspected was a form of autobot deterrence. Fabricated weakness to keep him in check. His system diagnostic wasn’t calibrated to his current state with the crystal present. Thousands upon thousands of false positives were detected, but after filtering through it, he started to figure it out. Energon was being pumped to previously inert body parts, with nanites that weren’t acclimated. Internal defense programs were onlining, and detecting foreign contaminants that had made their presence known with all the jostling around in him. The ore.  
Of course, the ore was defending itself - he had designed it to be adaptable in a sense, to ensure it could survive where he had launched the initial specimens. However this was quite a bit more than that… It was killing him. Wonderful. Whatever mutation it had undertaken had made it too far from energon to pass through soundly.

“Come’on old man, lets gooo. When you said you needed an escort, I thought you’d be eager to get there quickly.”

He needed to write a patch. Immediately. 

“I mean if you don’t want to go, that's fine, I’ll happily leave you to just sit on the floor, and nap if you want to, I’ll just go back to my suite. My buddies are waiting for me, they’ve got some analog board games. Usually I don’t go for that type of stuff, but its more bearable than you just sitting there venting like an organic.”

In his head, he was attempting to compile a string of code that could write the ore out of its categorization as a threat. But he simply couldn’t ignore the mech beside him rambling at this point. It had come to overpower his own thoughts. It was illogical to be irritated by it, but he was nonetheless. His hand cupped his audial, and he offlined his optic in a childish attempt to block it out, but if anything, he was more aware of it before. 

“Oh Primus, are you really going to sleep?- Oh! Hi Perceptor!” Shockwave sighed in relief.  
“Tell him to come here. I require his assistance.” Shockwave ordered, though it didn't quite have the cold edge his previous orders did. He sounded as weak as he felt. 

“He’s already running over. He looks like he’s pretty ticked off.”

Shockwave was confused for the barest of instants before deciding the anger was logical. It would easily be resolved after he explained himself, of course. He onlined his optic, and looked over to Perceptor, who was indeed running down the hall, with a gun - no, a welder - in hand. The scope on his shoulder was aimed at him too. He was fairly certain it was a weapon as well.

“Perceptor -“ Shockwave began once he was in hearing range. He forced his vox louder, but it was still less than desired. “I was looking for you.” Perceptor slowed as he approached until he was standing beside him, and his escort.

“Were you now?” He stated skeptically. He opened his mouth once more to continue, when the escort interrupted… 

“Yeah, he wanted to go to Brainstorm’s lab first, but I told him you locked it up, then he decided he wanted to see you.” If that mech was a decepticon under his command, he would be forced to recognize his place. 

Shockwave shifted off the wall, standing on his own two feet for at least a semblance of dignity. “Hold your tongue. I can explain my actions for myself-“ Shockwave had begun to reprimand with a bitter tone. He noted Perceptor pivot oddly, then the rest was a blur of force. 

A pull behind his pede that destabilized him. A strike to his chest that had him falling backwards, and then finally a powerful impact onto the floor that rattled the crystal. Shockwave was a bit too stunned to argue, fight back, or even check if he had been injured. He simply let out a startled grunt, and fell on his back. He was caught looking up at Perceptor. He tripped him? He had assumed Perceptor was above letting emotions like anger turn him towards illogical paths. 

The intimidation in his posture and expression looked effortless. Shockwave got the sense it was somehow justified. The mech planted a pede on him to hold him down - unnecessary, he was already sufficiently stunned - and Shockwave was silent. Uncertain of what to do. 

He looked up at Perceptor. The stone cold expression.. The tight, but unclenched grip on the welder. The way his free hand fell open at his side. He wasn’t particularly angry, or scared, or even satisfied with himself. It seemed confident, but cautious. The scientist could take him out without hesitation, and in that split second, Shockwave decided he liked Perceptor. 

 

Shockwave reset his optic quickly. His fans pulsed to rid his systems of hot air. It earned a stifled giggle from the escort. And just like that, his trance was broken. 

“Why?”

“You were aiming guns at me. I do not take such threats lightly.” Shockwave strained to look down at his legs over his chest. Perceptor denied the action by more firmly pressing his weight down. 

“Apologies. I hadn’t taken the knee cannons into account. It was not intentional. Besides, they are too structurally unsound to use, even if they were armed.” Shockwave elaborated. He wanted to sound as level headed and confident as Perceptor. But alas, his new position on the ground only had him more strained. In more pain. Shockwave needed to get to the point already. “That is no longer important. I am more concerned about my continued survival. The ore taking residence in my frame is being attacked by my nanites, and is fighting back. I need to get to a lab immediately to write a patch before it causes lasting harm.” 

Perceptor eyed Shockwave’s frame over. Suddenly that effortless cool was gone. His eye darted to the side, his grip on his pseudo-weapon tightened. It was subtle, but clear all the same.

“How much time do you think you have?”  
Shockwave ran a quick diagnostic. 

“Roughly seven hours until total spark death. However letting this condition sit longer than an hour will still be harmful.”

Perceptor nodded, then removed his foot, and leaned down to help Shockwave up.  
“I need to go to the bridge first to check on a more sensitive issue, then I will escort you to the medical bay personally. Unless I can hand you off to someone qualified enough.” 

Shockwave pulled himself up. Groaning with the effort. He felt a few energon lines puncture on jagged crystal, but his energon levels remained the same. Sealed over swiftly, but still painful. That was fine, he could handle pain.  
“Very well, but please be hasty. We are on a time limit.” Shockwave responded as he staggered onto his feet properly. 

The escort coughed. “Right and uh, me? Am I good to go?” 

“You are dismissed. You are no longer useful.” The escort looked torn between relieved, and offended, but strolled off nonetheless. The opposite direction the two scientists were headed.

 

Shockwave walked for a while longer before once again he was slumped on the wall,to rest and gather energy. Perceptor was patient enough. Simply eyeing the mech over with an unreadable gaze, and occasionally glancing down to a datapad until Shockwave could continue. The cycle repeated once more before Perceptor was finally fed up enough to silently wind an arm around Shockwave. Under his arms, against his back. Holding the mech’s weight enough for him to walk without needing to stop so often. 

He uttered a half startled “Thank you.” And the rest of the walk went with relative ease.

* * *

Brainstorm rocketed down the hall in jet mode. Shouting out the occasional ‘Sorry!’, or ‘Coming through!’ as he flew past confused mechs who barely managed to avoid his hazardous pace. He only transformed back to root mode when he was coming up onto the door to the bridge. He shifted quickly. Timing it perfectly to push the door open with his arm, as soon as it was available. He hurtled through. Slowing from his previous pace in quick bounds, until he was standing, and looking out on Rodimus, Megatron, and Ultra Magnus just… sitting there.  
Megatron was talking to Rodimus, below audible. Magnus was resetting the communicator over and over, but even from where he was standing, Brainstorm could tell the thingy was disabled somehow. With Magnus just hitting buttons like that, it would be a long time before that gave anyone a bell. 

Brainstorm wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but things to be calm certainly wasn’t it. But alas, what was a small power surge to them, was the loss of important projects and research to him.

“Uh… ‘scuse me.” Finally the three glanced over to see him. “Right, what happened?” 

Megatron gave a quick, hostile glance at Rodimus before he began to explain. “We were hit by an EMP. Our weapons, locks, and most communication devices are offline. I suspect a smaller vessel that crossed our path before to be to blame. I think this is an obvious attempt to cripple us before something boards our ship, and I am not going to waste time that could be spent preparing, on arguing.” About halfway through, Megatron turned from Brainstorm, back to Rodimus. His tone becoming more accusing. 

“Are any of the-”

“That's a bit of a stretch, isn’t it? Communications, and weapons take the longest to reboot. Locks need to be reset. If it was an EMP, then why did the lights stay on? Why didn’t we feel anything? The answer: not everything is an attack. We just lost power for a split second.” Rodimus argued.

“Could’ve been an assault on the frequencies we communicate with our weapons on, right?” Brainstorm theorized. Megatron looked a little more smug than before. “Also more than just that was affected. We’ve got a little bit of everything back at the lab, and - whew - it would be easier to count what didn’t get reset, or shut down. Uhh… actually yeah, just the lights, the guns I’ve got that aren’t lasers, and the danger detector.” 

Rodimus went wide eyed for a second. 

“The danger detector! What about the problem detector? Couldn’t we just use that?” Rodimus was smiling, which of course made Brainstorm laugh nervously when he continued. 

“Well… abstract devices take some time, especially ones that detect things that are so broad in meaning. You can’t just feed schematics into it, because then it's just a troubleshooter for certain machines, you gotta program it to feel when something is wrong, and then program it to find a solution… its complicated. Still a work in progress.” 

Rodimus frowned. Optics narrowed.  
“Didn’t you program a danger detector? A machine that finds the concept of danger before it happens? You did that in an afternoon -”

“Ok, listen, its basically done, but I wanted to finish Shockwave’s legs, so I had to put it on standby.” He sighed.” That's the lot of a scientist! So close to a groundbreaking discovery, then someone walks in and tells you to do something else. Tragic.” 

“So no problem detector until when?” 

“I also lost it. I think its either back in my hab - Perceptor had me clean up the lab and move my personal stuff to our room - oooor… or its in one of the weapon crates Magnus confiscated.”

Rodimus brought a hand to his helm.  
“God, got it, fine. Fine. No problem detector ever, got it. Just help us get our stuff back online.” Megatron chuckled a bit. Brainstorm was still getting used to that. The Megs he remembered was all ‘focus’; ‘stop chattering, just work’; ‘Brainstorm, you nearly wrote me out of history!!’ 

“On it.” Brainstorm announced. Waltzing up to the communications hub. Nudging Magnus aside as he eyed it over. Hand on his chin. The other running down the side panel. 

“Did you turn it off and then back on?” Brainstorm jokingly whispered to Ultra Magnus. Earning no response aside from a quick sigh. 

Brainstorm chuckled to himself, and proceeded onwards. He went through everything he could think of. Fiddling with the darkened display, digging his hands through the wires to check for charge, making sure the antenna was still intact. Everything. A few things decided to magically work under his hand, but not the whole thing. He was able to get the screen to light up, and make it start broadcasting, but it wouldn’t send anything...  
“By all means, it should be transmitting. Buuut it isn’t. I got the display working again, and it thinks its sending messages, but- oooh! Oh, that's it, isn’t it? How did I not see that?” 

Megatron loomed closer expectantly. “Can you fix it?”

“If you give me awhile, yes. Its quite simple, really. We’re being jammed,-”  
“Damn it, I told you we should have prepared for a fight!” Megatron interjected, through which Brainstorm continued without more than a minor pause.  
“- aaaand the jammer’s radius is somehow greater than the entirety of the Lost Light. Impressive! But so that's all. Best bet is to find the source and disable it. It's probably in the middle of the ship somewhere, or... If its strong enough, above or below us. Getting something to trace the signal would be supremely easy. Conversely, I could fashion a thingy to break through it, but it would take more time.” 

When Brainstorm finished talking, there was exactly one second of silence, before Rodimus announced “Assemble The Rod Squad!” As he started moving to the door. The other three followed. Megatron walking up at his side, planning.

“Who are you going to get?” Magnus asked. Quickly followed up by Megatron, with “And how do you intend to contact them?”

“Ideally, I would get Perceptor, Nautica, Whirl, Cyclonus, and Tailgate. The perfect team. But really all we need is a couple more people for padding. Extra guns in case the jammer is guarded - speaking of which, Brainstorm, get to tracking.” 

“On it!” 

“As I was saying. That ship was small. Could fit three, cybertronians on board. Maybe five if they were minibots. We’d already have them outnumbered, or outmatched no matter what.” Rodimus explained. 

“They might not be cybertronian, you must consider that possibility. But I agree. A small team of fighters we can depend on - and an additional scientist - would be most ideal.”

Brainstorm was fiddling with his own datapad. Configuring it. Getting the spectrum analyzer up was easy. From there he just had to tighten the parameters until he was locked on. He passed his datapad up to Rodimus after deciding it was simple enough, and there weren’t nearly enough science terms on screen to aggravate him.

As soon as it was handed over, Rodimus turned completely away from where the reading indicated was the proper direction. Brainstorm was almost impressed by his technological illiteracy, but rather than scold, he gave the captain a chance.

“So, what reading are you following?” Brainstorm asked.

“The spiny gauge at the bottom.” He answered as if it were obvious. And Brainstorm’s spark lurched.

“That's- that's the danger detector 3.0 - other way! Not that way!” Brainstorm physically grabbed Rodimus steering him around.  
Magnus groaned. “Why did you tell him that, now he’s-“ Rodimus effortlessly twisted out of Brainstorm’s grip, and followed the danger detector. “- yes. As anticipated…” the two followed after Rodimus.  
“Perhaps we should consider briefing the ship on how to properly talk Rodimus out of something.” Megatron jokingly suggestested, to which Ultra Magnus gave a wholehearted nod. 

Brainstorm could hardly see how they could joke right now. The danger detector was designed to avoid danger. Actively move away from it. Stay alive. And now, as he hesitantly trailed after the group, he felt exposed. No guns. None. None of them had any! And they were walking TOWARDS danger. VOLUNTARILY! WITH NO GUNS!

They made a left, and were immediately face to face with none other than Perceptor, and Shockwave. The latter of which looked like he could slip into recharge any moment. His optic was dim. Though physically he looked fine… better than fine! He even had legs now, and the crystal protrusions had receded to an extent. Yeah, it was only his paint that looked awful. Brainstorm let out a vent of relief. 

 

“Why’d-” Before Brainstorm could even start to ask his question, Rodimus let out a snarl of “You!” Before storming up to Shockwave. Neither Megatron, or Magnus made any move to stop him as he walked up with an accusatory finger pointed at the mech.

“You did something, didn’t you.” Rodimus continued. Shockwave didn’t even flinch at the hostility. Looking past Rodimus as if he wasn’t even there.

“Megatron?” The mech sounded utterly shocked. His optic turned to a bright flare. He almost looked halfway healthy for the moment..  
“Shockwave.” Megatron returned stoically. Rodimus looked between the two. First in disbelief, then in frustration. He vented hard. 

“Hey, focus. What did you d-“ Shockwave shrugged out of Perceptor’s arm to stand shakily on his own two pedes. He held up his hand at Rodimus. Ordering silence. “- hey…” the aggression faded. Now Rodimus just sounded dejected.

“Megatron… you stayed an Autobot… I was certain your decision to abandon your cause was simply a ploy to make me lose control of the drive.” A pause. “Given Optimus Prime’s fate, I was uncertain if you were still alive.”

“You underestimate me Shockwave. I wore the badge for years, but truly, I am Decepticon, through and through. It is a philosophy, not a brand.” Megatron smiled for a moment, but it quickly faded to a sad frown. “You’ve been gone for quite some time. There have been many, quite needed, updates to Decepticonism. I like to imagine that you would have approved of them, Senator.” And then there was a silence between them. A beat of staring, before Shockwave averted his optic slightly, and gave his answer.

“He’s gone, Megatron.” Shockwave softly returned. Megatron’s frown deepened. 

Brainstorm had an uncomfortable feeling that this was a conversation he wasn’t meant to be hearing. A quick glance to the others confirmed his suspicions that he wasn’t the only one. Everyone was anxiously looking around. 

Shockwave’s optic dimmed, and started its flickering again. Whatever moment they’d had, had passed. Brainstorm vented in before speaking up.

“Hey, don’t mean to break this up, but... shouldn’t we hurry?” Brainstorm interrupted with caution. Glancing around quickly to make sure no one else wanted in on the weird Decepticon spark-to-spark.

And like a switch went off, Shockwave spoke. “Yes. I am on a time limit. I need to get to a computer sufficiently capable of writing and deploying patches.” 

“Hm. Why, so you can go to the next stage of your evil plan?” Rodimus jumped right back onto the offensive as if nothing had happened.

“I advise you let go of your preconceived notion that somehow I am to blame for this assault.” Shockwave said. 

“No, you did something! I’m sure of it!”

“If breaking containment to seek aid is ‘something’, then yes. Yes I did. However I did nothing to cause this power outage.” 

“Of course you didn’t. This incredibly convenient accident just happened when we would least expect it, letting you make your escape! But you got caught, so you had to play it innocent. Right? So where’s the jammer?” 

“There is a jammer?-“

“What- no, don’t play dumb-“

“I could help you locate it, if that would put you at ease, and if I am guaranteed medical help.”

“And bring you closer to your device?” And with that final prod, Shockwave snapped.

“Fine. Let us consider for a moment that I in fact created this jammer, and manufactured this outage. To what end? Escape? When I am not fully healed? When I can’t be off life support for longer than a day? When I can barely walk?! And with what tools? How would I make, let alone deploy such a device? I am useless Rodimus. I am dying, and useless and I have been since I got here.” 

 

Rodimus gave a short huff before preparing to retaliate, but Megatron silenced him with a hand on the shoulder. 

“We’re wasting time. I don’t think this is Shockwave’s doing anyway.”

“Then who’s is it?”

“The ones I have been blaming from the start. The ones who you are insistent on underestimating.” Megatron didn’t wait. He immediately started walking. Rodimus followed. Perceptor made a B-line for Brainstorm, and Shockwave attempted to follow, only to practically collapse into Ultra Magnus’ arms. Who was quick to put Shockwave in stasis cuffs before assisting the mech in following the others.

Perceptor was at Brainstorm’s side immediately.  
“Shall we share our notes?” He began. The two kept pace with the others. Trailing slightly behind. Sharing their observations and experiences to try to piece the situation together. Perceptor shared how he had locked up the lab, and how he had found Shockwave. (Perceptor briefly praised the design of Shockwave’s new legs, though of course had his own reservations. Nonetheless, the compliment made Brainstorm’s wings flutter briefly.) Brainstorm shared the state the bridge was in when he got there, and how he came to the conclusion a jammer was in use.  
By the time they had tracked the signal to its origin, they were caught up. 

 

The signal’s origin was exactly what Megatron had presumed. A moderately sized personal ship, dormant, and docked in the Lost Light’s hangar. It looked Cybertronian in make. Beaten up like it got singed upon reentry a couple times too many. Maybe shot once or twice. The metal was a bit warped in some spots… That didn’t quite go with their species’ design elements… The metal must have been thinned out by the inhabitants. 

“Small. No lights are on.” Rodimus commented again, though without the dismissive quality of before. Now with caution.

Megatron was quick to approach. Examining the hatch. Gripping the sides, and testing angles to pry it open. “Quite unfortified as well.” Megatron noted. “Perceptor, Ultra Magnus, I will need you two inside, with me. Brainstorm, Rodimus, stay outside for now. Keep an eye on Shockwave.” The mech ordered, as he ripped the ship’s cargo door clean off with a loud screech despite the lack of locking mechanisms to warrant such a treatment.

Magnus and Preceptor were quick to join their captain’s side. Magnus carefully peered in with his head lamp. From his angle, it looked super empty. Brainstorm couldn’t decide if he was happy, or creeped out about it. He quickly looked to Perceptor, silently asking his opinion with a raised optical ridge. Perceptor flashed a quick, pleasant smile to Brainstorm almost as quickly they vanished into the hull, and everything went quiet, and still.

It felt too quiet, too calm. Shockwave was silently staring up at ship, swaying unsteadily occasionally, while Rodimus was pacing. Looking everywhere, likely expecting an ambush, but Brainstorm was gripped by an imperceivable fear of an entirely different source. Something told him this was all wrong, and something - specifically - on that ship was wrong. That sense everyone liked to call ‘cowardice’ was a good one, that had kept Brainstorm alive so long. He tended to act on it, but it was too late for that now. If he fled, he would be leaving Perceptor to whatever might be giving that feeling. As if Shockwave was reading his mind, he spoke up.

“This is a trap of some sort.”

“You would know.” Rodimus dryly retorted, though there was no hostility. He sounded on edge as well.  
Brainstorm examined his datapad to check the danger detector. It was useless. Insistent on pointing at Shockwave. Perhaps it was him that was to blame… Brainstorm couldn’t recall if they checked him for trackers or anything. 

“Indeed I would know, but this is obvious. This ship is a textbook definition of a baited trap. Even you should have noticed.” Shockwave continued.

Brainstorm walked a bit closer to the ship. Debating heading in to get Perceptor out of there. He was wary of the manipulator arm as he did so. 

“I do not know enough to deduce the nature of it, but I believe it is designed to draw us close, and lull us into a false sense of security. The lack of weaponry, small size, and how it seems uninhabited. If it carried organics, or even Ammonites, they could easily hide in such a small space, and ambush us. Strength would lie with numbers, even when of such diminutive size.”

He felt sick when he noticed the claw coated in dry energon. Sickness was replaced with terror when he saw it twitch. He felt dizzy. Transformation cog screaming for him to go jet mode, brain demanding he flee, but he was frozen in place, staring up at it as it fidgetted to life. 

Guns. No guns. He was unarmed. 

“Brainstorm!” Shockwave called out. “Move.” 

He followed his instincts. Turning on his heel, transforming, and making an effort to fly away from this damn thing, but instead, the claw grabbed his wing. Holding him in place. 

“No- no no no!” Was all he could shout in his terror. He could feel it. The fine tuned sensors for detecting the most minute shifts in air flow, and temperature, now being crunched down by a metal arm, that seemed set on breaking him. His thrusters were thundering loudly. Engine producing an awful clicking sound in their overheating. He tilted, shifting his wings to launch him upwards instead - he only stopped when he felt his wing about to rip off. 

Shockwave and Rodimus where talking below him - he was too panicked to properly pay attention, but he glanced down anyway, Rodimus was trying to climb up the side of the ship, and Shockwave had his canon pointed up at the claw, a pile of glitter at his feet - he was regretting that prank now.

He felt his wing gave yet another sharp tug, the manipulator arm beginning to pull him in now it seemed… 

“Shockwave! Shoot your knee canons!” Brainstorm practically begged. 

“What?! There’s no ammo!”

“I lied - please shoot! And don’t shoot me!”

Brainstorm let out another cry as he started his engine again, trying to fight the pull enough to hold steady. There was a thunderous boom, as Shockwave fired the slug at the claw. Then a scream as he fell nose first into the ground. The claw denting his wing one last time in the fall for good measure. He fell with a clatter, and a shatter. His cockpit breaking on impact. He transformed as soon as he was able, and crawled away from the broken claw. Dropping down next to Shockwave, who was in a similar state. On his back, and groaning in pain, clutching the - the stump of a leg. The knee down having apparently been ripped off of his body, and launched across the room. Not his best work, but they were alive, weren’t they?

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll get you those knee lasers as soon as possible.”

“Good.”

Rodimus landed next to them - on his feet - with a clang, and quickly marched to the ship’s door. 

“You two stay here. I’ll comm Ratchet as soon as we get the jammer, but I need to make sure my team is okay.” before either could say anything, he was gone. Into the depths of the tiny ship like the others. Brainstorm quietly cursed, and looked up to Shockwave, who met his gaze - singular optic somehow managing to convey the same level of annoyance he felt. 

“We should go after him.” Brainstorm stated, picking himself off the floor, about as slowly, and lazily as he could manage.

“Unfortunately, yes.”


End file.
